He slams into me full-force.
Metal crunches.Glass explodes.My head whips sideways, vision blurring white.
I can’t breathe.I can’t think.
The car careens off the road, fishtailing wildly before the tires lose their grip completely.Everything slows.Time fractures into pieces — sound splintering, light bending, my body weightless for one impossible second.
A thought flickers through the chaos:
I don’t want to die.
Then impact.A sickening crunch.Pain blasts through my skull.The world spins.Upside-down, right-side-up — I can’t tell.
My seatbelt strains, digging into my shoulder and chest.
My vision dances with black dots.
I think… I think I hear something.A voice?Or is that just my brain misfiring?
There’s a hiss something leaking.A crackle of electricity or fire or something worse.
I try to move.I can’t.My hands won’t respond.My legs feel distant.My head throbs with a pressure so intense it feels like it might burst.
I blink hard, trying to clear my vision.The world swims.My thoughts scatter.
Riot.
I should have—He didn’t—Maybe— I should have kissed him once more.
The pain swells, blinding, and everything inside me throbs with one instinct, don’t give up.
Stay awake.
Don’t slip.
Don’t let go.
But the shadows pull harder.
The last thing I feel is the cold brush of glass against my cheek and the distant rhythmic wail of a siren.
Not close.Not fast enough.
Then the world goes dark.
I wake to voices.Muffled.Distant.Floating.
“…blood pressure stabilizing…”
“…contusions on the left side…”
“…possible concussion…”
“…keep her under observation…”
My eyelids feel glued shut.I try to lift them, but they barely flicker.My head pulses with a dull, heavy ache.
A soft beeping nearby counts each heartbeat.A sharp antiseptic smell fills my nose.
